Shame
by VampPhan
Summary: Professor Abronsius really shouldn't have taken Sarah out of the castle. Basically my take on what mayhem happens after the musical, and interpretations on what happened before. [Sarah/Krolock, Alfred/Herbert]
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Does anyone even read author's notes? Ah well. So, this is the first fanfiction I've written in like what, ten years or something, and my first Tanz der Vampire fanfic. I know there's a lot of argument in this fandom about how the story/characters are interpreted so I'll go ahead and give you a heads up about some things: If you hate Sarah Chagal and expect me to kill her off or something, this fic is not for you. If you hate the Krolock/Sarah ship, this isn't for you (though I will try to keep it reasonable and in character so don't expect them to be all over each other immediately). I would say the same for Alfred/Herbert but that's where I agree with most of the fandom. Everybody loves them. And I've come up with a few rules/headcanons explaining further details but I guess you'll see those all in time. Anyways, I hope you enjoy.**

CHAPTER ONE

About halfway down the mountain on which the castle was perched, the professor was finding himself becoming quite exhausted, as the steep incline and speed at which he was running was beginning to take its toll on his frail body. As much as he loved adventures like this, he was really starting to get a bit too old for the physical side of it.

"Professor, can we rest for a bit? Sarah can barely stand!" Alfred called out to him, trying in vain to help the girl up, but she wasn't moving. The only way to tell she wasn't dead was by the slight rise and fall of her bloodstained chest.

"Of course, but just for a minute or two, we don't want them catching up to us!"

Sitting down to scribble away some notes and ideas, Abronsius once again became lost in his own little world, oblivious to everything around him. Finishing his last note about the possibility of umbrellas being a good defense against the undead, he snapped his notebook shut with a triumphant grin.

"You see, my dear boy, even if we did not manage to actually _kill_ any vampires, I did acquire a good deal of information during our little adventure! Pages and pages of new theories and descriptions, all my ideas alone! As soon as things calm down, I think we should return for further observations and—Alfred?"

Turning around, he realized that the boy, nor the girl whom they had saved, were with him. Standing in a panic, the professor called out both their names many times. There was no response.

 _Did one of those fiends swoop in and snatch them while my back was turned?_ He wondered furiously, starting to trudge through the snow. _Or did that blasted girl turn into a vampire already? Pah-impossible! It took her father quite a few hours to complete the transformation…then again, he was frozen solid, so perhaps it would take him a bit longer…I must do more research on this whole business. But wait—if she is a vampire, then the first place she would go would be..._

Before even finishing his thought, the professor began frantically running towards the village.

 _Even if I could not save the girl, I shall save someone this night! I must, if I am ever to receive any recognition. Theory alone is not enough to—_

At this point, he lost his footing on the steep, icy incline of the hill, and fell forward, tumbling all the way to the bottom. Muttering curses, he brushed himself off and marched straight up to Chagal's inn and banged on the door.

"Madame Chagal! Madame Chagal! It is I, Professor Abronsius! I know the hour is late, but it is an emergency! Please, open the door!"

Not long after this desperate plea, the door was finally flung open to reveal the innkeeper's wife, fiercely wielding a rolling pin. Instinctively, Abronsius flinched back, covering his head.

"Oh, it is you," Rebecca muttered, lowering her weapon. "What do you want, Professor? Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Not a clue, except that it is past midnight, and I fear the worst might be about to happen!"

"What are you on about?"

"I haven't time to explain, but you and every other living soul in this village must be on their guard to prepare for—"

Suddenly, they were interrupted by a horrific shriek from outside.

"You see, it has already begun!" the professor cried with terror, pushing past Rebecca to get safely inside the inn before bolting the door behind him. "They are attacking!"

For once, the professor was right.

Sarah and Alfred, freshly reborn creatures of the night, had descended upon the village like a force of nature. Unfeeling and uncontrollable, they flew from house to house, kicking down doors, breaking through windows, and draining the life out of any victim they could find. Many fought back. Some were well armed enough with stakes that they even frightened away the inexperienced young vampires.

But of the two, Alfred was quite clearly the weakest. When the first villager, a baker who was quite close to the Chagal family, tried to protect himself using a crucifix, Sarah only laughed and crushed it with her bare hands before sinking her fangs into the poor man's throat. Alfred, however, was brought to his knees at the mere sight of the cross. After all, it was the symbol of the very same God he had been praying to only hours before—ironically, he had prayed that he, nor Sarah, would ever succumb to such an evil.

And yet, they had. The innocent had been corrupted, the prey had become the predator. The hero had become the villain.

Meanwhile, Abronsius and Rebecca became more and more terrified, hearing so many screams from every direction, never knowing if or when they would become the vampires' next meal. Daring to take a quick glance out of the small kitchen window, Madame Chagal gasped as she saw a female figure chasing after and tackling a man to the ground. It was too far away to tell who either of the two were, but she could see that the girl had long, red hair.

"Professor, you tell me this instant what has become of my daughter! I want to know right now if that creature outside is my Sarah!"

"I'm afraid it is...I'm deeply sorry, Madame Chagal, I tried to save her but the Graf—"

"Has destroyed everything I love! He and all of his kind! My poor Yoine, and now…now….!" she sputtered, hot tears starting to spill from her eyes as she furiously turned to the older man. "And you! You are nothing but a fool! A damned, gutless fool! You claim to be here to help us, but look what has happened since you came! Everything has fallen apart!"

"I…." Abronsius backed away, struggling to sputter out a defense for himself, but found himself speechless. With a deep shame, he realized he was not the man he thought he was. He fancied himself a hero, a savior of science and morality, who knew exactly what to do to protect the world from evil. Yet when directly faced with it, he had done nothing. Absolutely nothing. He was no better than his cowering assistant, whom he had criticized so harshly for not following up theory with practice. The poor boy was only following the example of his teacher.

"I can help now!" The professor suddenly exclaimed. Rebecca shot him a look of confusion and doubt, to which he hurriedly began explaining. "You are right, I have been gutless, but now I shall be brave. I'm old, I have no excuses for fearing death. So if I die tonight….well…at least my life will have been worth something."

This last part, he was not quite so sure of, but there was no backing out now. He could not live with himself if he just stood by and allowed more people to either be murdered or otherwise turned into vessels of Lucifer.

After a moment of consideration, Rebecca took a wreath of garlic from the wall and hung it around the Professor's neck. "You'll need this," she said, ignoring his protests about garlic not really working against vampires. "And I'm coming with you."

Not hesitating a moment further, Abronsius and the innkeeper's wife dared to step back outside into the cold. But things had grown much worse in just a few minute's time. Now, there was not only Sarah and Alfred, but several others were now swooping through the streets, terrorizing the peasants. It was impossible to tell how many, it was all happening so quickly.

The professor and Rebecca saw their chance when one of the undead was busy cornering a man between two buildings. Sneaking up behind the fiend, Rebecca held the stake steady, and with one heavy strike of his hammer, the professor drove the sharp point through his back. The vampire shrieked and fell to the ground, writhing in agony and twisting to try and remove the stake, as it had not quite pierced his heart. With another hit of the hammer, the professor put the creature out of his misery.

The man who had been saved in all of this promptly fainted from shock.

As glorious as this all was, our two vampire slayers were robbed of a potentially greater victory (or more likely, their imminent doom), as all the chaos and violence suddenly ceased. Everything was strangely silent. All of the vampires had simply disappeared.

No one knew how or why, but one person claimed to have seen the Graf.

To Sarah Chagal, this all felt like a dream. Everything that had happened while she was alive, everything that she had done in the village, it just didn't seem real. One would think it would all be more of a nightmare, but not to her. She just did not expect to become a nightmare for others.

That isn't to say she was completely ignorant of what would happen when she had chosen to run off to the castle. One would have to be remarkably dense to live in this town and not know just who and what lived there, and what she might become if she attended the ball. Knowing she was taking a risk was one of the reasons she even accepted the invitation. Of course, she had told herself that perhaps she wouldn't be bitten, or things would somehow take a different turn and she could return to her old life and be good, but secretly, she hoped they wouldn't.

However, she nor the rest of her town, had a full grasp on what vampirism would really be like. The only example she had to look to was the man who had brought her into this dark new world in the first place. And he always made it look so easy.

Thinking it over now, she supposed it was a bit presumptuous of her to believe that just because the Graf could practice self-control around humans meant that she would be able to. Sarah just had thought he would have been there to help her with all of that. But no, that idiotic professor had to drag her off at the last second. Ironic, she thought, how in doing that, the old man had ended up causing more harm than good.

But it was not just him who had made such a valiant yet dim-witted attempt to save her. There was also that sweet, innocent young boy who had been so strangely devoted to her from the very moment they met. For the life of her, she could not understand why…

At the thought of Alfred, she felt the first twinge of regret touch her now cold heart.

What have I done to him? She had wanted this, even if it wasn't what she thought it would be, but he never did.

Now staring at him, in his blood soaked clothes and with such a dead look in his eyes, he did not look so innocent anymore. He looked like a monster. And she knew she did as well, though she could not see her reflection in the mirrors around them. But it was strange, how she knew what they had done, knew she should feel remorse, but it wasn't quite hitting her yet. Like someone realizing they have done something stupid in a drunken haze, but still too consumed by that haze to truly care.

She was reflecting on all of this after she and Alfred had been dragged out of the village by force and taken back to the castle by the horde of vampires that had been present at the ball. Glancing at them, she now saw that they too, were drenched with fresh blood, and now understood what all must have happened in the village. They had been sent down there to retrieve her, but at the sight of all the bloodshed she and Alfred had caused, lost all control of themselves.

As they all congregated into the great hall, she saw that the one leading them was none other than the Graf, who now turned to face them. She and Alfred found themselves roughly flung forward by the other vampires, landing on their knees at his feet. For a moment, she feared for her life, wondering if they were about to be punished or even killed for their actions. Squeezing her eyes shut, she prepared for the worst. But the Graf just bent down, briefly muttering something to them.

"I will get to you two later."

Straightening back up, he walked around the two to address the crowd of older vampires.

"Let me make something perfectly clear to you all, since apparently you did not understand it the last time I said it: When you are here, you bite only who I permit you to bite, and feed when I permit you to feed! Not when I order you to do one simple task—which you completely ignored—all to slaughter the humans which weren't even good enough for you last year! Do you know how long it has taken me to create balance between just my small family and that village? To keep them from constantly trying to kill us, despite knowing what we are? It takes restraint, it takes bargaining, and careful planning. All of that, dashed away in an instant of your pathetic weakness! Do you know what is going to happen to us now? You, who are so spoiled to be under my protection and guidance, haven't any idea, do you? Let me enlighten you, then. _We will be hunted._ More than ever before. More than you can even imagine. Not by peasants with pitchforks, nor by moronic 'men of science' who think they know how to destroy us because they've read about it once—"

At this, he shot a sharp look towards Alfred. "—no, they will be _real_ vampire hunters. You've probably never met one, have you? They are just as monstrous as we, perhaps even more, for they do not make our deaths quick and painless. I have seen them put my friends under torture for _weeks_ , just because of one careless biting. But after this, after you've killed what, twenty, thirty people in one night alone? Believe me, they will come for us. They will track you down, and make you suffer, and kill you. And even if I wanted to, there is nothing I could do to save your miserable lives."

Sharply turning away from them with disgust, his voice lowered as he added one last afterthought. "I hope you enjoyed tonight's feast. It is the last one any of you ever will have here."

The crowd of undead had a mixture of expressions ranging from fear to rage to despair, but none needed any further words to know it was now time to leave. As they all started streaming out the doors, Sarah stood, unsure if she should follow. If the leader of the vampires intended on giving her and Alfred something worse than a lecture, perhaps it would be best if she ran while she still could. Just as she stepped towards the doors, a smooth voice stopped her.

"I hope you aren't thinking of leaving, Sarah."

Whirling around, she was surprised to see the Graf staring at her with a gaze that was not angry, nor even smug, but almost….sad. His words seemed to be less of a threat and more of a request. Slowly, he stepped forward, glancing between her and Alfred.

"You know I can hardly blame you as I can the others. They are all centuries old, and should know better by now. But you….both of you, were meant to stay here when you turned."

"Both of us?" Alfred finally spoke up, perplexed.

"Ah, yes, I did not plan on having you killed. Not at first, anyway…" the older vampire hissed. He leaned in closer to Alfred, narrowing his eyes in a fixated, cold gaze. "You showed such promise. I saw it, I felt it. What happened to that?"

Alfred just kept his eyes lowered and swallowed nervously. Sarah could tell he was thinking deeply about something, but could not make out what it was. What did all of that mean? When did Alfred ever speak to the Graf?

"If not for you and your professor, none of this would have happened. You both would have safely turned, much fewer or perhaps even no people would have been killed, and you would not have had to start out your new lives with regret. But as it is…well. All I can tell you is that your first kills are the ones you never forget, and never forgive yourself for."

For a moment, there was nothing but silence, until Sarah noticed someone else entering the hall. It was Herbert. She had met him once, very briefly, but remembered liking him.

"Ah, there you are," said the father to his son. "I was hoping to get your opinion on what to do with young Alfred. Personally, I'd rather just kill him and call it a day, considering what he did at the ball...but since you were so fond of him, let's make it your decision."

Sarah watched as Alfred seemed to transform back to his old self in an instant, his eyes wide and his body shaking with fear, as it so often did when he was alive. Biting his lip, he looked to Herbert for the first time not with repulsion, but pleading. The blonde vampire merely sighed with disappointment and looked towards Sarah.

"I should be angry with you for stealing my gift…but I suppose you couldn't help it. Even for me, the hunger is hard to control, especially with someone so irresistible…"

The Graf interrupted him impatiently. "Is he of any use to you now, or should I do away with him?"

"Please don't!" Sarah cried out, surprising herself with her words. She barely knew the boy, and in her state, she hardly cared about seeing more death, but she did know he didn't deserve this. Everyone stared at her with mixed expressions, but Herbert was the first to respond.

"Yes, I'd rather you didn't kill him, Father," he agreed, then shot a little smirk towards Alfred. "I still think I can have fun with him."

Rolling his eyes as if inconvenienced by this decision, the Graf pushed Alfred towards Herbert. "Fine then, you can have him. Do whatever you please, just keep him out of my way….For his sake."

A wider grin spread over the blonde man's face, revealing his sharp teeth as he grabbed Alfred like an excited child with a new toy. Alfred instinctively flinched at this, even though he knew that he was no longer at risk of becoming Herbert's meal. But just feeling the grip of the other man's hand on his wrist, he knew that he was still relatively helpless compared to the older vampires. Perhaps strength came with age and experience.

Hesitantly looking to Herbert, Alfred saw that the two Krolocks were looking at each other strangely, as if having a silent conversation before abruptly splitting off in different directions. Herbert pulled Alfred behind him towards one hallway, and the Graf took Sarah in the other. Neither of the two young vampires knew what was about to happen, but any fear they might have felt was greatly overshadowed by an indescribably heavy feeling of shame. The intoxication of their feeding was wearing off, and the guilt was weighing in.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Although probably no one is reading this, but I thought I might inform you just in case that I'm basing basically all of the characters on the 2012 Berlin production with Drew Sarich. I say basically everyone, because Sarah is an exception. I'm picturing her more as Sharon Tate, or Vera from the Russian production. Of course, you can envision whichever one you prefer, but in case I put a descriptor of their looks/personality that disagrees with another version, well…now you know why.**

 **Oh I should also probably warn you there's a lot of suicide mentions in this chapter.**

CHAPTER TWO

"They just disappeared…" Rebecca Chagal looked around in bewilderment, as did everyone else left standing in the small village. The professor was lost in his own thoughts, wondering if perhaps it was about to be daylight, but it was still quite dark outside. He was interrupted in his musings by suddenly being pulled into a tight embrace by someone.

"You! You saved my life!"

It was the man from earlier, who had fainted after watching the first and only staking Abronsius ever performed. Normally, the professor would bask in acknowledgement of his good deeds, but he noticed Rebecca watching them with a somewhat disappointed look. He felt strangely guilty. Motioning the man towards her, he gave a small smile towards the innkeeper's wife.

"Thank her, I couldn't have done it alone."

Just then, someone pointed up towards the castle and screamed, "They're coming back!"

From the top of the mountain, dozens and dozens of shadowy figures flew through the air, partially masked by the darkness and fog. In a panic, everyone started reaching for the nearest weapon and huddled together, prepared for another attack, but it never came. The flying figures never swooped down upon them. They didn't even stay together as one flock, they split off, going in different directions and disappearing once again over the dark horizon.

"Those must be the others that were at the ball…where could they be going?" Abronsius said to himself, but was heard by Rebecca.

"The ball?"

"You don't know?" he asked incredulously. "I figured you would know more about that than me, living here all your life and such…"

Rebecca shook her head, and thus the professor began giving a long-winded explanation of what he knew about the midwinter ball, and all else that happened up at the castle. He tried not to exaggerate his own accomplishments, but it was extremely difficult. When he was done, Rebecca only had one question.

"Is there a cure?"

The professor furrowed his brows in confusion. "A cure for what, Madame?"

"The curse of the vampire, what else? Is there any hope for my daughter, or even my husband?"

Ordinarily, the professor would be blunt and go with the answer he was almost positive was true: that vampirism is irreversible. But he'd never had to tell this to someone who had lost everything due to it. He would have to be truly heartless to dash away that person's last shred of hope. And even if he didn't like to think so, and didn't necessarily show it, the professor still was not immune to emotion.

"I've never heard of a cure…but that doesn't mean one doesn't exist."

/

The first place Herbert lead Alfred to was of course, his bedchamber. Not for any intimate reason (although Herbert only kept the bed in this room for that purpose) but because it only made sense to keep Alfred somewhere within _his_ arm's reach but away from the Graf's. The crypt obviously wouldn't do. Besides, with all its pastel hues and soft silks, Herbert's old room was probably the most cheerful one in the entire castle, and hopefully would make Alfred feel more comfortable.

"I suppose you'll have to sleep in the bed until we can attain a suitable coffin for you. Besides, I'm sure that'll make it all much easier for you, won't it? It took me ages to get used to the coffin but really, it's much safer... Oh dear, I'll have to somehow move mine up from the crypt…or get another one," Herbert mused, circling about the room as he started making plans for this new situation. Oh, it would be complicated, but his optimism was unshakable. He _would_ make this fun, for himself and Alfred.

"Don't you worry too much about Father," the blonde assured the young vampire. "You won't really be a prisoner for nearly as long as he'd like you to think. He goes into phases like this all the time with people who displease him, but trust me, he will get over it. In a week or so, I'm sure you'll be free to roam the castle as much as you—Alfred, my dear, what's wrong? Are you crying?"

Alfred had sunk down in a corner of the room, hiding his face between his knees. His whole body was shaking as his sobs gradually grew louder and louder. Rushing to kneel beside him, Herbert tried to comfort him with a hand on his shoulder, but was roughly pushed away.

"Alfred, please, tell me…" he pleaded. "Let me help you."

"I can't…I can't…oh God…"

It took a moment for Herbert to realize what this must be. He'd never had to deal with it personally, but he'd seen it happen with several other newly turned vampires over the centuries. It was always a difficult thing to watch.

"Is this about what happened in the village? What you and Sarah did?"

Alfred barely managed to choke out a response, still hiding his face. "I don't even know how many people I killed, there were so many…there was so much blood, I…"

"Alfred, that wasn't you. That was something you couldn't help, something nobody in your situation could possibly control. Without someone experienced to help you, this kind of thing always happens. I know to you it was horrific, but—"

"How can you say that? How do any of you just get _accustomed_ to murdering people?" Alfred snapped, finally raising his head to look Herbert in the eyes. "I thought once someone becomes a vampire, they lose all sense of themselves. They lose their soul, and that's why they can do unspeakable things without a thought. But no…I am still myself. That _was_ me out there. I have no excuse. And neither do any of you."

"Yes, you are yourself now, but you weren't at first. None of us are ourselves the moment we are turned. All we become is the hunger, and until we satiate it, we can't control what we do. It takes time to learn how to restrain oneself. You must not blame yourself…"

Alfred's sobbing had quieted somewhat, but did not cease. After a while, he leaned in to Herbert, letting the blonde wrap him up in his arms. Herbert tried not to get his hopes up about this. In this moment, Alfred would probably seek comfort in the arms of Death himself. But even so, it was nice, knowing he seemed to have made the boy feel at least a little bit better.

Their silence was interrupted by a knock at the door. Glancing up with a cocked brow, Herbert sighed with annoyance before slowly letting go of Alfred.

"Just a moment, dear…" he murmured, standing to open the door. When he did, he was surprised to see his father standing there.

"Oh, it's you…"

"I need your help with something," said the Graf bluntly. Giving him a strange look, Herbert crossed his arms.

"With what, exactly?"

The older man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Sarah is absolutely distraught. I'm sure you can imagine why."

"Yes, because of what happened earlier….Alfred is quite upset too."

"You don't understand, I had to hold her down to keep her from trying to drive things through her heart. Right now, Koukol is keeping her locked up in my coffin, but I don't know how long that'll last. New vampires are always so tumultuous…She says as soon as the sun rises, she's going to run outside and let herself burn, or else find another way to end her life. I can't even speak to her, everything I say only makes it worse."

Herbert snorted at this last part. "Well, Father, that's because your idea of soothing someone is to tell them 'life is nothing but pain, get used to it'…"

When the Graf only gave Herbert a scathing glare, the blonde held up his hands in surrender and started to walk past him. "Alright, alright, I'll talk to her, but someone has to watch Alfred…make sure he doesn't kill himself…but don't _say_ anything to him!"

The Graf just pushed him further down the hallway, waving for him to hurry. "I won't, just get to her before she overpowers Koukol and tries to stake herself!"

With that, Herbert started rushing at an inhuman speed through the castle towards the crypt. Honestly, one would think his father would be smarter than to bring an already distressed girl to a place reserved for death...and then lock her in a coffin! What a cold hearted imbecile. Yes, she and Alfred would have to grow accustomed to it eventually, but not right away…

Arriving at the stairway down to the crypt, he found sharp pieces of iron strewn all across the room, some with blood stained on the tips. Glancing down at the railing beside him, he saw that quite a few of its bars were missing. Meanwhile, Koukol was frantically stacking heavy stones on top of his father's coffin, which was still shaking even underneath so much weight. From inside, he could easily hear Sarah's shrieks. It sounded as if someone was torturing her with a red-hot iron.

"Koukol, open the coffin," Herbert demanded calmly.

The hunchback looked at him incredulously, pointing at the shaking stones and struggling to speak. "But…I just…she..."

"Father asked me to talk to her. Just block the door, in case she tries to run," Herbert instructed him. Koukol obeyed, taking the stones off the sarcophagus one by one. Before he was even done with the last stone, the lid of the coffin suddenly flew open, nearly hitting them in the process. Herbert barely had time to snatch Sarah's wrist before she could escape.

"Let me go!" she screamed, clawing at his hand. He winced at the pain but just held on harder, almost breaking her wrist with the strength needed to restrain her.

"I can't, Father doesn't want you to go," he said simply. Despite his vice-like grip, she didn't stop fighting him.

"I don't care!"

The pain on her face was indescribable, as the tears of a vampire are not like that of a human's. Usually, they are only tinged a little with blood. But since she had just massacred several people, there was a solid stream of deep red running from each of her eyes, staining her face. It looked as if she had been crying for hours, although she couldn't have been at the castle for more than thirty minutes thus far.

"Sarah, you can't leave. Not now. It's too dangerous, you could kill more people…" Herbert warned her, hoping this would maybe make her stop, but it didn't.

"No! I had my fill, the only one I'll be killing is myself—"

"But you won't! Sarah, we have too much of a will to survive, even in our darkest hours…trust me, I know. Your body won't let you destroy yourself…"

Of course, this was a lie. Vampires were entirely capable of committing suicide—the only reason it was harder for them than for humans was because it was harder to kill a vampire by any means. But he couldn't have her believe that.

Sarah's fighting eventually started to die down after a while. She still had plenty of energy left, but seemed to realize that her struggle was in vain. Herbert was too strong. Crumpling to the floor beside the stone coffin, her bloody tears continued to flow uninterrupted.

"It is truly a curse then, to be a monster and not even be able to end it…all I'll ever do is bring destruction and pain to others, and for all eternity…"

Herbert narrowed his eyes suspiciously. That depressing idea sounded like something his father would have implied to the girl, no doubt when he was trying to 'comfort' her. In the Graf's own mind, he probably thought he was doing a good thing, making her see the 'truth'—but even if he was right, when did the truth ever make anyone happy?

"No, you won't. There is so much more to it. There is sadness, and pain, and we make mistakes, but there are also good times. There's still love and happiness to be found—even if _some_ say there isn't," he sighed, sitting down beside her. "It's like life for a human. It just has lower lows, higher highs, and lasts a lot longer."

It took quite a bit of patience for Herbert to repeat all of the sentiments he had expressed earlier to make Alfred feel better, since would honestly rather not play therapist for _everyone_. The Graf had a nasty habit of sending in Herbert anytime there was the slightest sign of emotional conflict. At first, Herbert had been honored to have a talent his father did not, but after a while, it got to be rather annoying. But it wasn't as if he detested Sarah. All he really knew about her was that she was the first person in ages (aside from himself) to make the Graf smile. If something pleased Father, it usually pleased him.

"Did…did you kill people, when you turned?" Sarah asked quietly, looking up at him. The redness filling up her eyes had begun to disappear, and the dark brown of her irises was once again visible.  
"Well, eventually I did, all vampires do, but not at first. Not like you and Alfred. Father was there to hold me back. He wanted to make sure I didn't end up with the same regrets as him."

"So he killed half a village in his time then, did he?" Sarah asked, a bitterness tainting her voice.

"No. Just my mother."

At this, the girl's eyes went wide and she turned away as if ashamed. "I'm sorry."

"It's…alright, I don't remember her," he shrugged. Glancing away, he cleared his throat. "I probably shouldn't have told you that, he barely talks about things like that even to me. So…please don't tell him I told you."

"I won't."

"Good," he said, pausing a moment before standing up to walk away. "I think my work here is done, so…I'll leave you be."

Sarah dully watched him go, wondering if she should thank him for his kindness, but decided against it. She didn't have the energy for it, and he probably didn't need it. He was just doing what his father wanted. Still, that last bit of information was honestly the first real thing she had discovered about the Graf, aside from him having a son, of course. It was so surreal, to have her entire life turned upside down because of someone who might as well be a stranger to her.

 _God, I don't even know his name…_


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Alfred, though as confused and overwhelmed by self-loathing as Sarah was, was much more interested in preserving his existence rather than obliterating it. After all, he did not personally know those he killed as Sarah did—the villagers had been strangers when he arrived, and they still were strangers to him now. Also, Herbert was quite good at easing away some of the aching guilt he felt.

Not to mention there was something about having a centuries old vampire staring you down that put mortality into perspective.

For a long time, Alfred just kept silent and tried to avoid looking at the Graf. Not speaking unless spoken to was a rule he was accustomed to, especially with figures of authority. But was this man—this creature, rather, really an authority? Just because he had a title and power did not mean Alfred had to pay him any respect. After all, he was the enemy. The root of his and Sarah's pain, and all the pain they had caused in turn thereafter.

Questions started to flood Alfred's brain, making it nearly impossible to keep himself from asking. But which one was safe to ask? Would he receive an answer, or just have his throat ripped out?

 _He did make an arrangement about me with his son…it might be a reach, but I think I can safely bet that he spoils Herbert. He wouldn't just kill one of his son's…presents…Would he?_ Alfred thought, for once very glad to be an object of affection for the youngest von Krolock. In this place, the fact that Herbert, and perhaps even that Sarah cared about him was the singular thing keeping him alive. Speaking of Sarah…

"Why her?" he suddenly blurted out. "Why did it have to be Sarah?"

The elder vampire raised a thin brow, cool surprise crossing over his aristocratic features as he kept his gaze fixated on Alfred. He stayed silent for a few moments before finally speaking.

"Do you still have feelings for her even now?"

 _Of course, responding to a question with another question. How very…like him,_ Alfred thought with frustration.

"I don't know, you tell me. You supposedly can read my mind, after all…"

At this, the Graf's lips curled into an amused smirk. "I could never truly _read_ your mind, Alfred. I can only sense emotions and desires in humans. Now that you are a vampire, I just have to use…intuition."

For a moment, Alfred was annoyed by the man's always arrogant tone, but then he realized something. That now, he would have that same power. He could feel what others felt and know what they wanted. It was somewhat frightening to think about, but at the same time, he felt a rush of excitement just knowing he would have such an ability. Not to mention all of the others, like flying..!

Shaking these fanciful thoughts away, he tried to focus on the subject at hand. Sarah. Did he care about Sarah? Did the Graf? As a human, he would have instantly answered yes to the first and no to the second. But now, reflecting on all that had happened, how each of them had actually treated one another, the lines were blurred. He didn't know what to think anymore.

 _If only vampires could feel the emotions of other vampires. Then I would know for sure._

"You didn't answer my question," Alfred pushed on insistently.

"You didn't answer mine."

Groaning in annoyance, the younger quickly spit out his response. "Yes, I still care about her. Now. Why did you pick her?"

The Graf sighed, indifferently toying with the rings that adorned his bony fingers. "Because I wanted to, that's why."

"That…that's not a real answer!" Alfred protested, his irritation growing stronger by the minute. "We made a deal, I told you the truth, now you owe it to me to do the same—"

The Graf was suddenly inches away from his face, coldly sneering, "Deals and fairness mean nothing to me, _Alfred_. The sooner you learn that, the better."

Alfred just stood there gaping as the other vampire calmly straightened back up and turned away. He wasn't sure if he should stop now while he was still alive, or stand up for himself—and for Sarah. As a human, it would take much more to get a rise out of him. But now, it was very difficult to keep his mouth shut, since every emotion he felt was multiplied threefold as a vampire. The more he ruminated on it, the more his anger grew, until he finally exploded.

"So what, you just used her for what, to feed your bloodlust and add another pretty face to your collection? That's who those other vampires were, weren't they? Previous victims! You just ruin people's lives for fun when you aren't killing them, is that it? Is that all life is to you? Even when you have all of eternity to do quite literally _anything else?_ I don't know how you can act so smug living like that because honestly, that's pathetic. I pity you!"

He didn't get a chance to see how his heated, thoughtless words would affect the aristocrat, as Herbert finally returned that very moment.

"Oh good, he hasn't killed you yet," Herbert said with genuine relief before turning to his father. "She's a lot calmer now, but I wouldn't say she's fully alright, just—"

The Graf just rose a pale hand, stopping him from saying anything else. His expression, Alfred noticed, made it hard to discern exactly what he was feeling, though his eyes gave away that he was deep in thought. This only lasted a moment, however, as he soon left without another word.

"I hope he wasn't too hard on you," Herbert said with an apologetic smile. Alfred shook his head, before letting out a humorless laugh, still angry but also unexpectedly proud.

"Actually…I think it was the other way around."

Herbert tilted his head, giving Alfred an incredulous look. "What exactly do you mean?"

"Nothing, we just…exchanged a few words," Alfred said, shaking his head dismissively. His eyes darted about the room, for the first time really taking in his surroundings. The walls were smooth, painted powder blue. The curtains at the window were velvet and pastel purple, as were the covers on the bed at the center of the room. In the corner was an ivory desk with a small mirror attached, though Alfred couldn't imagine why Herbert would need one, considering his lack of a reflection and all…Everything was so airy and light, even a bit feminine, but not absurdly girlish. It wasn't exactly Alfred's style but he liked it.

"Was this your bedchamber when you were…um…"

"Alive? Human? Oh, yes, it was. But it's not as if I haven't been up here since then," Herbert explained, looking around the room fondly. "I try to keep it all updated, or at least dusted, from time to time. I wish father would do the same with the rest of the castle, or at least make Koukol do it, but alas, he seems to like basking in antiquities and decay. I think it's his way of clinging onto the past or something."

In more than one way, Herbert was an antithesis to what Alfred had always thought vampires would be like—and how most he had met, such as the Graf, really _were_ like. Yes, Herbert was still a monstrous creature, but now, so was he. In comparison to the others, the blonde was the least threatening of all…though considering how he had almost attacked him the other day, Alfred still did not fancy the idea of sharing a room, much less a bed, with him. He hoped that wouldn't be the case, but since no one had yet brought up a coffin…

"Oh! I've completely forgotten the time!" Herbert suddenly exclaimed, rushing over to the window to make sure the curtains were completely shut. Not even a crack of light could be allowed to escape when the sun rose. "See, _this_ is why coffins are so much safer, they're underground _and_ have lids…but I suppose it is too late now to set up any other arrangement. We will just have to sleep like mortals today..."

The younger man cringed, hating that his hypothesis had been correct. Perhaps he could make a deal…

" _Deals and fairness mean nothing to me, Alfred."_

Did that cold sentiment just apply to the Graf, or were all vampires so deceitful and callous? Herbert didn't seem to be. Maybe he was just better at hiding it…But Alfred at least had to make an attempt to advocate for his own comfort.

"I will only sleep on the bed with you if you promise not to touch me. Otherwise, I'll settle for the floor."

A hint of warning flashed in his eyes as he fixed them on the other man, who was already lying down and pulling the lavender covers over himself. Looking up, Herbert gave a sad little pout.

"Oh come now, you still don't—"

"Yes, still," Alfred said firmly. "Do we have a deal, or not?"

Herbert hesitated to answer. "Well…I won't touch you on purpose, but I can't make any promises about what I'll do in my sleep."

The younger man rolled his eyes but shrugged, accepting this as good enough. He removed his shoes, jacket, and bowtie, but no more than that. After all, he didn't want to 'provoke' Herbert as the Professor had once said….How long ago that all felt now.

Sliding in under the silk sheets and sinking into the softness of the mattress, he found that this bed was the most comfortable thing he had ever laid upon—even despite having Herbert inches away from him. It felt like it was meant for a king.

"Good day, Alfred…" Herbert murmured with a yawn, rolling over away from him to allow more space between them. Alfred couldn't help but smile a little at the inversion of the usual bedtime expression.

"Good day."

/

As the Graf stalked back down the halls and down the stairs towards the underground burial chamber of the castle, he found it more and more difficult to push away his thoughts. First, there was that insolent little outburst Alfred made, which had shaken him much more than he would have liked to admit. He avoided thinking about that the most. But there was a much more pressing issue that plagued him. He had not given those ominous warnings to the other vampires just to be dramatic. That massacre in the village would have consequences, which he (and the limited number of individuals he cared about) would likely suffer for. He would have to build up some sort of defense, or go on the run…he didn't know which idea would be more likely to keep him alive. The only thing that kept him from doing either of those things immediately was the simple fact that those peasants at the bottom of the mountain were not prepared for such a battle against the undead just yet. Otherwise, they would have fended off their attack earlier. No, they would need time to find suitable weapons…and actually competent vampire killers.

 _At least that will buy enough time for me to plan a counterattack,_ he thought, trying to reassure himself. _Though I doubt I'll also have enough time to deal with Sarah, Alfred, and their existential crises…._

As he entered the crypt, he barely had time to look at Sarah before she confronted him with an inquiry.

"What is your name?"  
He sighed, circling around her. "Everyone's so full of questions tonight…."

"Well pardon me, but it seems a bit absurd, keeping your first name a secret after all that has happened," Sarah responded curtly, crossing her arms. How was it fair that he knew so many things about her but she wasn't allowed to know anything about him?

"It is not just my first name you do not know," he mused with a small smile, then stepped a little closer to her. "My full name is Grigore Vadas von Krolock. Though of course, that last part is just an epithet for the grafschaft that was owned by my family. The territory has been split up and renamed many times over the centuries since then, but people tend to prefer using my formal title even so. Hardly anyone addresses me by anything else, so I usually introduce myself as nothing else."

Though he seemed to be boring himself, reciting all of this information, Sarah was listening very intently. Centuries…how many centuries old was he, exactly? How could someone live to be so old and yet, in moments like this, seem almost normal? Would she ever live to such an age, and if so, would she be anything like him?

"May I call you Grigore, then?" she finally asked, a bit tentative.

"If you wish," he shrugged, then turned towards the coffin behind her, sliding the lid off of it with ease. "Now, if you haven't any other questions, the sun will be rising any minute. We need to rest."

As he laid down inside, Sarah glanced around the darkness of the crypt with confusion.

"Where will I sleep?" she asked, noticing a slightly smaller coffin lying beside the one he was occupying. "This one?"

"Eh…I suppose Herbert wouldn't mind, as he isn't using it today it seems…but there's also room enough in mine. The choice is yours."

Sarah was taken aback by this suggestion. Perhaps she would have expected him to offer something so intimate before, when she was almost certain he fancied her, but now…well. She wasn't exactly sure of where they stood. Maybe sharing a coffin wasn't like sharing a bed to a vampire. Either way, if she had to sleep in a coffin, she would prefer she wasn't alone.

Climbing inside, she squeezed herself into the small space left, but still ended up halfway resting on top of the other vampire. The black silk lining was soft and comfortable, but the tightness was going to take some getting used to. When he started to pull the stone lid over them, she started to panic.

"Wait! I…I don't know if I can handle being shut in, not yet. I'll feel terribly…confined."

"And I'll feel so exposed…" he said with some objection, but left the lid where it was.

Sarah expected it to take hours for her to get to sleep, considering all of her racing thoughts and endless worries, on top of the discomfort of her sleeping quarters. But the sleep of a vampire ended up being exactly what one would expect: quick, deep, and dreamless…A reflection of the death she had cheated.

/

With the professor's instruction (which was backed up by Rebecca Chagal), the townspeople quickly laid out all their dead in the town square. Whenever they thought they had the last of them, another corpse was added to the pile, increasing the villager's despair. The professor was nearly the only person present who wasn't at least shedding a few tears.

Still, he was very tempted to gloat, since these same people had ignored his warnings and pretended they had no worries only days before…but he forced himself to refrain from mentioning that. He didn't want to be driven out simply because he was being insensitive in the face of so much death.

"We have to stake them all, you know," he said in a low murmur to Madame Chagal, who at first nodded, but then suddenly shook her head in protest.

"Wait, what about finding a cure?"

"I don't even know if one exists, and if it does, it will be impossible to control this many vampires until we find the antidote. Who knows if there will even be enough of it for all of them? No, we can only reserve hope for your Sarah and my Alfred."

"And Yoine."

"Yes, and him….but for the rest, there is only one solution to avoid anyone else being killed or cursed," he insisted. Clearing his throat, he called out to everyone else standing in the square.

"Attention! Attention everyone! I know this is a very difficult time, but there is something we must do, to protect us all. And we must do it quickly. We must stake all of those who fell victim to the vampires, lest they become the undead—"

As he expected, there were immediate cries of outrage. Most were only emphasizing their grief, speaking about how barbaric such a thing was, but one protest stood out to him.

"But the sun is rising, professor! If they are cursed, they will surely perish out here."

Abronsius glanced towards the horizon, which indeed was growing lighter by the second.

"We don't know the exact measure of sunlight it takes to kill a vampire, they could flee and find shelter before we even catch them. Please, everyone, let us not take risks! Let your loved ones rest in peace. Don't let them become what has destroyed them!"

After a few moments of whispering amongst themselves, a middle aged woman emerged from the crowd to approach the professor.

"Give me a stake."

Honestly a bit surprised someone had agreed so readily, the professor obeyed, handing her his hammer as well. With tears in her eyes, the woman approached one of the corpses in the square, a man who must have been her husband, and swiftly staked him through the heart. One by one, others soon followed. In an unexpected way, Abronsius found that watching families being forced to desecrate the bodies of their loved ones was almost worse than watching those loved ones being killed in the first place. But it was their moral duty.

"Professor, are you not exhausted?" Rebecca finally asked him. He shrugged.

"I've stayed up many a night conducting research…but yes, I suppose I am a little tired," he admitted, then gave a hesitant laugh as another thought came to him. "Let's just hope this lack of sleep doesn't make _us_ nocturnal creatures…"

 **AN: I hope you don't totally hate my choice for Krolock's real name. It gets very repetitive just calling him 'the graf' over and over. I looked through quite a few German, Romanian and Hungarian names (as people of all of those nationalities were occupying Transylvania in the late 1500's) and Grigore just seemed to fit him. I can't really explain why. Vadas is a Hungarian surname I chose because 1) the Romanian ones basically all mean 'son of so and so' which is boring and 2), Vadas means "wild animal". So yes his name is a Romanian/Hungarian/German mess but Transylvania has always been that kind of a mess historically so I think it's realistic.**

 _ **Grafschaft:**_ **basically means county, from what I understand using the dubious wonder that is Wikipedia. If I got this wrong or something, let me know.**


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

When Alfred awoke, he felt as if he had been sleeping for a week. Never before had he felt so well rested. The bed was soft, his body warm…but something was off. Slowly, he realized he was wrapped up in a pair of strong arms, and his eyes popped open with horror.

"Herbert!" he cried, squirming out of the vampire's embrace. "I told you not to touch me!"

"Huh..what?" The blonde peered back at him, confused, rubbing his half open eyes. As he yawned, those familiar pearly white fangs were revealed, startling Alfred. This thought was put aside, however, as he started to wonder how he could even see a thing. The curtains had shut out all the light of day, and now it was nighttime. No candles had been lit.

" _The night vision of a vampire is truly remarkable!"_ He imagined the professor's excited voice as he took note of this new information. Despite how the old man had taken him for granted, Alfred couldn't help but wonder and even worry about him from time to time. After all, Abronsius was the closest thing to a parental figure he ever had.

"I promise, I did not mean to…" Herbert's voice brought Alfred back to reality, and he shook his head with a sigh.

"It's alright…"

With a little grin, the blonde stretched and jumped out of bed. "So, what shall we do tonight?"

Alfred was about to produce an answer when suddenly his face contorted with discomfort as he felt a gnawing inside of him.

 _God, for a moment I almost forgot what I was._

Seeing the faces of yesterday's victims flash before his eyes, the pain in their final screams ringing in his ears, he nearly fell to his knees but caught himself at the last moment. No, he could not fall into his despair again. With desperation, he looked to Herbert as he did not know what else to do.

"I can't do what I did before... I can hardly live with myself as it is. You said…you said there is more to this life than death. That eventually, you can learn to control it. Please, show me."

For a long moment, Herbert didn't say anything. Eventually, he let out a disappointed sigh, stepping closer to Alfred.

"It takes a very long time to learn how to restrain oneself when you are around humans, but since you are up here—and are not permitted to leave anytime soon—I think it will be fairly easy to keep you from killing people for now…"

This seemed to reassure Alfred. Though he loathed being anyone's prisoner, his being trapped here was the only thing protecting the world from himself. He could hardly protest to that.

"…Unless of course you tried to eat Koukol, but trust me, you do not want to try that," Herbert chuckled. Alfred cringed with disgust at the thought. For now, his hunger was not great enough to make him resort to biting that…thing…but he didn't know how much it would grow from here. It had only been what, twelve hours since his last feeding? And he had drunk the blood of multiple people. He didn't even know how many, he had been in such a haze.

"How can I still be so hungry? How do I stop it, without killing someone? Surely you do not slaughter several people a day…"

 _Or else the Graf's speech last night would be very confusing indeed,_ he thought.

"Oh, no. Father has his way of keeping us alive and satiated without even biting anyone—at least, until a special occasion arrives, when we find it safe enough to do what we are designed and driven to do."

"But…how?"

"Well, biting someone always comes with its risks. You either suck them dry and they simply die, or you leave enough blood for them to become…infected. Either way, people tend to form mobs and hunt us down when this happens too often. So, Father simply collects our food by other means," Herbert explained with a little shrug. "I'm not sure what he uses to lacerate the skin, but it isn't his teeth—believe me, that takes an _immense_ amount of control indeed. I don't know how he does it. But anyway, he collects only a small amount from each person, but eventually builds up a good stock to last us for a month or so, then goes out and repeats the process again. At first, it wasn't much, and we would often go weeks without a drop, but now he has truly mastered the art. I can have an entire bottle full of it a day if I want to."

"But wait…how do the people not know of this? How does he keep them from fighting back?"

"I'm sure you already know how _persuasive_ Father can be," Herbert grinned.

Thinking back to only a few days before, Alfred remembered how the Graf had lured Alfred away from the professor after _somehow_ getting ahold of Sarah's sponge—which Alfred had been quite certain was safely tucked away in the bag beforehand. And then, Krolock had gotten inside Alfred's mind, hinting at all of his hidden desires and encouraging him to act on them. Practically _seducing_ him just as he had with Sarah.

The thought of this only made Alfred despise him more.

"So he can make people just give up their blood in exchange for nothing?"

Herbert shook his head. "Eh, it's more like putting them into a deep trance, with some sort of dream to distract them. He's very good with dreams."

 _That strange nightmare I had…was that his doing?_

"Is there anything he's _not_ good at?" Alfred asked curtly.

"Yes, plenty of things. Most of them having to do with emotional matters, as you witnessed last night," Herbert said, rolling his eyes. "So, if you are quite finished with asking all about my father, I'd like to focus on _us_ for a while….Come, I'll bring you to the wine cellar. Let's get rid of those pesky cravings."

Alfred had an idea of what Herbert meant by that before they started their trek through the castle. As they passed through one of the few hallways that had windows, Herbert stopped in front of one for a moment to look at the moon.

"Glorious, isn't it?" he swooned with a dreamy smile. "It's a pity there's only a sliver of it…"

At first Alfred glanced out with disinterest, not understanding what was so fascinating about something one sees every night. But as he looked out into the night sky, he found there was something a different about it now. It was almost magical. It called out to him, causing him to almost want to leap out into it and fly away. Darkness no longer frightened him, and thus, he could now appreciate its beauty. Perhaps it was just the fact that he could now see what hid in the shadows…

He was admittedly disappointed when Herbert dragged him away to continue on to their final destination.

The underground room full of rows and rows of bottles full of some dark red liquid could indeed, easily be mistaken for an ordinary wine cellar. The only way Alfred could tell the difference was the smell. Before Herbert even opened the door to the chamber, Alfred could catch the scent of blood—though it was not as appetizing as he would have expected. He thought he might have to hold himself back, for fear of going wild and drinking every bottle in sight, but he managed to refrain without much effort.

"Naturally, fresh blood is much, much better, but you do get used to this," Herbert said as if reading his thoughts. Sauntering over to one of the rows, he took one bottle and shook it up vigorously before presenting it to Alfred. "If you like, I could warm it up for you by the fireplace. Sometimes that helps—"

But Alfred had already popped open the cork and started to drink, although the first sip made him wretch with disgust. It was very cold and stale…and diluted with something he had never tasted before. It had an acidic, chemical flavor.

"What is in this?"

"Oh, something Father discovered rummaging through some scientist's laboratory. Apparently, it keeps the blood from separating and clotting..."

Alfred wrinkled his nose, not knowing of any chemical that could keep blood in such a state for this long. Sodium citrate would only keep it for a few hours and these bottles must have been down here for much, much longer than that. After forcing a few more sips out of sheer desperation to quell his cravings, he stopped, handing the bottle back to Herbert.

"Alright, let's try heating it up…maybe then it'll be tolerable."

/

When Sarah awoke, she found herself alone in the coffin. The lid was still left open, but she could not help but panic a little, until she sat up and saw the Graf watching her from a corner of the room. How had he not awoken her when he left the coffin? It wasn't exactly like rolling quietly out of bed, he would have had to maneuver himself out from under her. And how long had he been standing there?

"You sleep like the dead," he mused as the hint of a self-satisfied grin appeared on his face. Sarah rolled her eyes at this as she lazily climbed out of the coffin.

"Hilarious..."

Looking down over herself as she stood, she realized something.

"Um…Grigore—" It was still extremely strange for her to call him by his familiar name, but he had given her permission after all. "Could I ask a favor of you?"

"Of course, what is it?"

She started off hesitantly, not wanting to somehow insult him. "Well…as wonderful as this gown is…or was…it um…it's gotten terribly uncomfortable so…I don't suppose you have something else I can change into?"

Glancing over the bloodstains and tears on her dress, he slowly shook his head. "I don't think so…just a moment—KOUKOL!"

Within mere moments, the hunchback appeared, hobbling immediately over to Grigore's side like a loyal dog. The Graf begin giving him instructions in some language Sarah didn't understand, making several gestures as he did, and then producing a small bag from a hidden pocket. As he handed it to Koukol, it made a distinguishable jingle.

As soon as the hunchback had left, Sarah turned to the other vampire with a look of suspicion. "What did you tell him?"

He seemed a little taken aback by the question. "Oh…just to go into town and get a few things for you to wear."

"But you gave him money…He never had to pay for all the candles and such we gave him before. I just assumed you got most anything you wanted for free," she shrugged.

"I do. But this time, I'm trying to make some reparations for the damage you and Alfred caused."

Though he did not say this in a harsh or condescending tone, it still hit Sarah like a slap in the face. Yes, she remembered very well what she did, but she was trying extremely hard not to think about it. All she wanted was to feel normal again for one moment…

He continued with a sigh. "The least I can do to keep them off our backs for now is to pay some of my debts. But it will not last for very long. I need time to make a plan of defense..."

"Yes, against the hunters," she recalled. Thinking this over, she could not help but point something out to him. "If I were you, I wouldn't have banished all of my friends knowing something like that was coming. They could have made an impressive army."

He clenched his jaw, struggling to keep his tone civil. "An army needs more than just pure force, it needs competence and strategy, two things that my 'friends' never had. They would end up doing more harm than good, believe me."

"So you think you are safer alone, with only three other vampires to help you?" she asked, raising a brow dubiously. At this he took a pause, glancing off to the side as if hesitating to tell her something. "What is it?"

"Actually, there's five," he finally corrected her.

She felt she shouldn't be surprised, as this was such a huge castle—and she barely knew anything about the inhabitants she _was_ aware of. Even so, her mind already began coming up with possibilities of who the other two might be. Some other family members of his? Close friends? Previous conquests?

"Who else is here, then?"

"Your father. And some wench, I think she used to be your maid…"

Sarah's dark eyes widened with shock. "Father? Magda? Are they…?"

"Vampires? Yes."

"But how? Did you turn them?" She was already feeling a flush of fury in her veins at the mere thought. Though she resented her father greatly in life, she would never wish him to come to any harm, let alone the fate he had always tried to protect his family from.

"Me? No," Grigore scoffed as if this was the most ridiculous accusation. "It must have been one of the others, I honestly do not know who. I didn't even know either of them were here until much later. They just showed up and made themselves at home, like this was some kind of free hotel for the undead…though I do admit, your father was quite useful after the ball, what with his being immune to crosses…"

"Yes, I seem to share that trait," Sarah muttered. "Where is he? I want to see him."

"Well, last I saw, they were sharing a coffin down here, but Koukol apparently has moved it…" the Graf noticed as he glanced around the crypt. "I suppose we'll have to start searching."

Thus, they emerged from the crypt and began treading through the halls of the castle, their footsteps hardly making a sound as they moved. Sarah was secretly fascinated by this natural stealth. As they passed through one corridor into a lofty chamber, they were both surprised to see Herbert and Alfred sitting by the blazing fireplace, talking like old friends.

Simply by clearing his throat, the eldest Krolock immediately silenced their conversation.

"I thought I told you to keep him out of my way…"

"Well how was I supposed to know you'd come in here?" Herbert said, rolling his eyes as if the matter was trivial. Standing, he approached his father with a wry grin. "Care to indulge in our usual nightly drink? Alfred's already started."

Without even thinking, Sarah flew over to Alfred's side, eager to quell her hunger. He handed over the bottle he had been drinking from, but gave her a fair warning before allowing her a sip. Chuckling a little as she cringed at the taste just as he had minutes before, Alfred looked over her, a faint expression of fondness evident in his eyes.

"How have you been? Are you….alright?"

She forced a small smile. "As alright as I can be, given the circumstances."

Nodding, he rubbed his neck, looking away bashfully. "Sorry, that was a stupid question."

"No, it's nice of you to be concerned," she assured him.

 _Nice. That's the only thing she can ever say about me,_ Alfred thought, feeling a slight sting as he thought upon their previous interactions. " _Nice" was never what she wanted. But it's hardly what I am now. I feel like I am the same, but my mind knows better. My soul, if I still have one, is tainted beyond repair by what I've done. Perhaps that will please her, now that I'm more her type of man._

As they fell silent, they noticed Herbert and the Graf were engaged in some discussion over in the corner, keeping their voices low but their gestures indicated disagreement. Whatever they were saying, neither Alfred nor Sarah could make it out.

"What do you suppose they're talking about?" Alfred asked her in a whisper.

"I don't know, that's the second time he's started speaking in that language…It's very suspicious," she replied with an annoyed sigh.

"Perhaps it is just more natural to them. It's probably their native tongue, or some dead language that's been forgotten. It sounds similar to Romanian but not quite….maybe it's ancient Moldavian," Alfred pondered aloud, more to himself than Sarah, but she was listening intently with a look of amusement.

"Always the scientist, aren't you?"

"Only the scientist's assistant."

Remembering what she had originally come in this room for, Sarah quickly asked him, "Have you seen my father here? Or Magda, my parents' maid?"

Alfred's face fell and he averted his gaze. "I haven't seen them here, but if you are asking me this, you must know what has happened to them."

"I do," she started, but then corrected herself. "Well, I know that they are like us. But I do not know how it all happened."

Hesitantly, he began to explain the whole story to her. "I'm not quite sure myself, except…well, when you ran away, your father went to go find you. Later he was found frozen, covered in bite marks. Your mother, distraught with grief, would not let the professor and I stake him. We were going to sneak downstairs and do it when she was asleep, but we found Chagal had attacked Magda. The professor was going to make me stake him, but at the last moment, I realized he could lead us to you. And he did. So, here we all are. Though I'm not sure how Magda ended up here….I suppose she had nowhere else to go."

Sarah stared at the floor emptily. All of this, because she ran away. All of these lives turned upside down, because she could not stand her own. All she ever wanted was freedom. Was that so very wrong? Had all of this really been her fault? No, she couldn't think that, she could not bear to take on anymore guilt. After all, she did have someone else to blame for putting these fanciful thoughts in her head in the first place…

Everyone was interrupted by the creak of a large door opening, and the clumsy footsteps of Koukol as he entered, carrying piles of heavy garments. From the sound of his raspy breathing, it seemed he was having quite the struggle with them. He approached Sarah first and dropped the clothes unceremoniously at her feet.

"Thank you…" she said awkwardly, but he had already started padding away to his master.

They had a brief conversation, in that same unknown language, before the Graf dismissed him.

"It seems the village was reluctant to take my payment, but our dear friend Professor Abronsius convinced them otherwise…" he informed the others dryly.

"He's there? He's alive?" Alfred asked hurriedly, a spark of hope in his eyes. The Graf shot him a look of annoyance but deigned to provide an answer.

"Yes, apparently so. I don't expect he took the money in the spirit of making amends," he said with some bitterness, starting to pace restlessly. "If I had known he was still there, I wouldn't have bothered paying my debts at all. He, no doubt, is encouraging them to fight back this time, and in all likelihood, is using my peace offering to pay for weapons…"

"Well, what are we going to do?" Herbert asked. The Graf turned away, silent for what seemed like a full minute, as the other three waited tensely for him to come up with some solution for all of this.

When he finally turned back to face them, his answer was immensely unsatisfying.

"Honestly, I have no idea."

 **AN: Thanks for reading. As far as the bottled blood I did a lot of research and basically concluded I'd have to make shit up for this to work so I hope you aren't disappointed….Reviews would be appreciated so I can get a sense of what I'm doing right and wrong.**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Thank you so much for your reviews! I've started back at college, so it'll be a little slower, but I'll try to keep updating regularly. (sorry this was a short chapter, I really tried but I wanted to end it on a dramatic note so….I'll try to make up for it in the next one)**

CHAPTER FIVE

At first, Rebecca had adamantly refused the money offered to her by Koukol. In fact, she nearly chased him out of the inn with a broom in the process, but the professor wisely stopped her.

"Think of what you can do with such funds!"

"I don't care! Nothing they give me will ever make up for what was taken!" she cried, red in the face and glaring daggers at the hunchback. Still using himself as a barrier between the two, Abronsius tried to reason with her further.

"Yes, yes, I know, but just because you take the money does not mean you are giving in! I understand your anger, Madame, but in these times, practicality must come before pride…" he whispered, glancing back at Koukol to make sure he couldn't hear what was being said. "Think. We can use it to get _back_ at them."

Her eyes narrowed, causing the wrinkles on her face to grow deeper as she considered this idea. Before she could come to any conclusion, they both were distracted, as Koukol let out a grunt. Evidently, he was trying to say something. It took a few tries before the Professor could understand him.

"Need….clothes…for…girl," Koukol finally managed to say, making many gestures as he did. Rebecca's face instantly lit up.

"Girl? Does he mean Sarah?"

"In all likelihood, but let's make sure," said the professor before turning back to Koukol. "Do you mean Sarah Chagal? Is she still at the castle?"

Koukol threw his head back and forth in a vigorous nod. "Clothes!" he said again, more persistently this time. Rebecca did not need to be asked twice. She had already disappeared upstairs, evidently to retrieve some garments for her beloved daughter.

While she was occupied, the professor tried to ask Koukol a few more questions, but all the hunchback did was throw the bag of money at his feet. Bending to pick up the bag, Abronsius examined it curiously, trying to determine when it might have been made. But alas, he was much more knowledgeable about architecture than velvet purses.

 _The castle itself is from the 13_ _th_ _century, but that does not necessarily mean anything. The creature might have stolen it from someone else long ago, or it could very well have belonged to his own family before he was ever born. And that library! Books from every age, no collection of one century significantly larger than any other. One might think it easy, to distinguish the approximate age of a vampire by his belongings, but alas, no. In any case, I should obtain that information before we make any move to fight him. It is said the older a vampire is, the more powerful..._

Rebecca finally returned from upstairs with nearly the entirety of her daughter's wardrobe. "Here, take these. Tell her—or tell someone else to tell her—that I wish to see her," she said firmly, handing the pile of garments to Koukol. He muttered something under his breath and shuffled away, letting the door swing shut behind him with a bang.

Abronsius had to bite his tongue to keep from telling Rebecca that in all likelihood, Sarah would never be notified of her request.

"You take it, or I will," he said instead, holding out the purse to her. "As a widow, I'm sure you will need it…"

"I am not a widow!" she snapped. "Yoine is still alive….in a manner. And I will be fine, thank you very much."

Shrugging, the professor pocketed the money. "Suit yourself."

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, the innkeeper's wife spoke up again. "What are you going to use it for?"

The professor, puffing out his chest with confidence, began to eagerly explain his plan. "I am going to contact a few of my colleagues to request their help in the imminent battle. As much as I'm sure they would love to assist me in ridding the world of evil, I expect they will want to be paid. It is not an easy journey, making one's way into this little Transylvanian village…But once they arrive, we will be victorious. I am sure of it!"

Rebecca did not look as impressed as he would have hoped.

"There are other vampire hunters?"

The professor laughed sheepishly, flattered to finally be granted such a title…even if it was said with such dubiousness.

"Well...there are others who have knowledge in the subject. None are exactly experts, like myself…except the one who has always been my inspiration," he said as a fond afterthought.

"And who is that?"

"Abraham Van Helsing."

/

At last, Sarah was finally able to rid herself of that tight, gaudy gown and change into something more comfortable. It was one of her simple peasant dresses, the color of the sky in spring. Had she been able to see her reflection, she would have been taken aback by the dramatic change, as she now looked almost like her old self again. Almost. There was a slight pallor to her skin, and a hardness in her eyes.

Running her tongue over her teeth curiously, she felt the sharpness of her fangs. At some point when she had been drinking from the bottle Alfred had shared with her, she had felt her canines elongating, but less painfully than they had when she first transformed. In fact, she had barely felt the change at all. But now, how to retract them? She tried pushing them back with her tongue, but only hissed in pain as she accidentally cut herself on the sharp edges. Simple concentration didn't seem to work either. Sighing in resignation, she decided to add this to the growing list of things to ask Grigore about.

Stepping back into the grand hall with the others, she ended up returning to her seat next to Alfred, somewhat begrudgingly. As much as she would have preferred to continue looking for her father, her freedom was apparently restricted only to certain rooms in the castle, not the entirety of the grounds. And the vampires that could be entrusted to accompany her were too busy making battle plans to bother.

"I say we just leave," Herbert sighed uncaringly, running an elegant hand through his tresses. "It would be so much easier and I've always wanted to travel—"

To the Graf, Herbert might as well have suggested they all jump off a cliff.

"Have you no pride? This is our _home_. And more than that, it is the rock upon which our bloodline rests. This is all the evidence that is left of our family name. I'd rather die defending it than just run away like some pathetic coward. No, we'll need to make some sort of barrier…"

Fortunately for Sarah and Alfred, who had very little say in the matter and thus were being bored to death, this was all interrupted by none other than Yoine Chagal. Or rather, the sound of his raucous laughter in a nearby hallway. It was followed by the playful yelp of a woman who could only be Magda.

"Papa! Is that you?" Sarah immediately called out to him, standing from her chair by the fireplace. Everyone else present also drew their attention to the nearest door, where Chagal hesitantly approached. As usual, he looked disheveled and dirty, but he also was covered in bloodstains—mostly around his lips.

 _God, who was his last victim?_

Sarah's unspoken question was soon answered as Magda followed him, fresh bites apparent on each of her wrists. Despite this, she looked quite euphoric, like she had just returned from a very pleasurable intimate encounter. Sarah couldn't understand why. The single time she'd been bitten, it was nothing but blinding pain. Perhaps that changed, once one was a vampire. And was that normal, for vampires to bite other vampires? Was it like kissing? Or something more?

"Sarah?" Chagal gasped, daring to step further into the room. Nobody moved, but Sarah could tell by a brief glance that the Graf was prepared to strike at any moment, should Chagal do anything foolish.

But he did not. Yoine just chuckled, shaking his head as he looked at his daughter.

"Well. Isn't this ironic?"

"Nice to see you too, Papa…" she muttered, crossing her arms over herself. Seeing her look of disappointment, Chagal approached her with open arms.

"Oh, don't sound so glum. I have an apology to make," he said as he stopped in front of her. "I misjudged everything, Sarah. I worried too much about useless things! Virtue, goodness…chastity, ha! But I see everything so much clearer now…right is wrong and wrong is right. Do you not see it too? You are, after all, like me in more than one way now."

For a long moment, all she could do was stare at him, wondering what happened to her old Papa. This was a stranger standing in his image. She wasn't necessarily disappointed, but it was still unnerving.

"Who turned you?" she finally asked. He let out a harsh laugh.

"Hell, who knows? There was a whole flock of them! Not that I care, my fate was quick, and the result is just the same. And oh, it's glorious!"

Sarah looked down, her words tight and unfeeling. "Well, I'm glad you're happy, Papa."

Glancing over her, Yoine appeared almost concerned for the first time since his transformation, his brows furrowed in confusion and worry. "And you? Are you not happy?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but did not get the chance to answer.

"As touching as this all is," Grigore interrupted in a low drawl. "We have important matters to discuss. If you all cannot provide a suggestion as to how to keep away hordes of vampire slayers, then I suggest you be silent."

Yoine followed this suggestion and immediately stepped back. But Magda, who had been silent until now, chose this moment to finally speak up.

"How do you fight any enemy?" she asked, her accent thick as always. " _Human_ enemies, I mean?"

When no one answered, Magda rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation. "Humans are really easy to kill, you know. You can use knives, ropes, pistols, arrows, explosives, stones to bash heads in…and what, is everyone forgetting that we have _these_?" she said, baring her fangs and gesturing towards them.

"We will be far too outnumbered, and won't be able to get that close to them to use half of those things," the Graf snapped irritably.

"But the other half might work," Herbert chimed in, a hopeful look in his eyes. "Somehow I don't think they'll expect us to be _shooting_ at them from a distance."

"He's right, they won't." Everyone turned to look at Alfred with surprise, most having forgotten he was even present. Glancing around the room, he wrung his hands, hesitantly continuing. "I mean, in my experience, people who plan on hunting vampires generally focus only on the biting. And the extra strength…and the powers of the mind...Anyway, I've never heard of a vampire that shoots arrows or other projectiles at his enemies."

"Cannon balls, those are good too," Magda added, a smirk on her lips.

A low groan drew Sarah's attention towards the Graf. He was slightly turned away from the others to hide an expression of pure disdain. If his eyes rolled back into his skull any further, they would have disappeared completely. She bit her lip to refrain from smirking.

 _Oh, how humiliating it must be to have others come up with the great ideas for once._

/

" _Gott im Himmel!"_

In the dim candlelit of a luxurious study, a man some might call legendary found himself deeply disturbed by a letter. In the next room, a secretary was startled by his exclamation, and rushed into the study immediately.

"Are you alright, Professor? What is the matter?"

The aged man slowly turned to his colleague, still clutching the parchment in his hands. His dark blue eyes were fixed on the clumsy handwriting as if trying to see if he had somehow misread it. Upon his strong features was not a look of fear, but utter bewilderment.

"There's another one. It's started all over again."


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Hi again. Thanks for your reviews, really, they make me feel all warm and fuzzy. I'm very eager to get back to writing (despite all this silly college stuff pshh this is way more important) so…yeah. I hope you like it. Oh, and I'm kinda editing the 'Dracula' story to fit this plotline but it'll just be a few references here and there. And I'm sorry this chapter is way too short.**

CHAPTER SIX

It took only a week for Abronsius to receive a letter in response to the few he had sent out to other supernatural experts all across Europe. Within that week, he spent his days at the Chagal Inn, whittling away to create as many wooden stakes as he could possibly fashion. His skill, at first, was subpar, but towards the end of the week the weapons looked like they could actually pierce a vampire's heart. The other villagers, he presumed, were doing something similar—at least those who had not packed up and left, risking hypothermia and more all to get away from what one man called "this vampire infested hellhole."

In any case, Abronsius was ecstatic to see that someone had finally written him back (and that the mail carrier had managed to find his current address.) When he saw the name written on the letter, he almost fell out of his chair.

"Van Helsing! Abraham Van Helsing has written to me!" he cried, not knowing nor caring if Rebecca could hear him. Ripping the letter open, he read it feverishly then burst into laughter, almost dancing with glee as he rushed down the stairs to tell Madame Chagal the news.

"What are you so happy about?" she asked, hanging up garlands of fresh garlic around the windows. Abronsius, by now, barely noticed the stench.

"Van Helsing…my idol, my inspiration, my…the most renowned vampire hunter in the world, has written back to me and he is going to help us!" Abronsius said breathlessly, handing over the letter for Rebecca to read, which she did so aloud.

"' _Dear Professor Abronsius, I was very disturbed by your letter. You see, I was under the impression that the curse of the vampire had ended years ago. I assume you know about my slaying the devil known as Vlad Dracula, the very first_ nosferatu, _and thus destroying the entire evil race. At least, that is what I thought had happened when I killed him. If what you say is true, that there are still vampires in Transylvania, then it seems I was mistaken…'_ " Rebecca stopped her, looking up at him with horror. "This doesn't sound like something to be happy about! He thought he had killed them all already, but clearly has not succeeded. Hmph. I see why he is _your_ inspiration."

"Do not be so cynical!" the professor protested. "Even if he did not kill them all, he did _kill_ the oldest and most powerful vampire in the world, presumably more powerful than any of the creatures up on that mountain. Is that not something to celebrate? The Graf should be easy work for a man like him."

Rebecca shrugged and sighed, then continued to silently read to herself.

 _I am on my way as you read this letter. I am trusting you as a fellow scientist, that you have told me the truth. I should arrive in two weeks' time, with a few of my men to assist us. Until I arrive, defend yourself and others as much as you need, but do not take any offensive action against the creatures unless it is absolutely necessary._

 _May God protect you all._

- _A. Van Helsing_

/

Meanwhile, during this week, the Graf routinely sent Koukol down the mountain as a spy, ordering him to take note of everything the villagers were doing, particularly the professor. Most of the time, Koukol returned with nothing to report, except that everyone was still making crosses and stakes. But one night, he returned with the news of Van Helsing's letter.

If it had been possible for the Graf to grow any paler, he would have at hearing this.

"Are you absolutely sure?"

Koukol grunted in affirmation.

"THE Van Helsing? He is coming _here_? In two weeks?!"

The hunchback nodded. Grigore didn't notice how tightly he was gripping the glass in his hand until it suddenly smashed, flinging red droplets everywhere. Hissing with pain, he cringed as he looked at his palm, into which several glass fragments were embedded. As he started the painful process of pulling the glass out of his skin, he sensed Sarah rushing into the room.

"What happened?"

"Nothing, an accident," Grigore muttered, gritting his teeth as he yanked out a particularly large fragment from his thumb and watched his pale flesh slowly sew itself back together again.

"What's this about a Van Helsing?" Sarah pressed on. "Who is he?"

"The bringer of our death, that's who," the Graf seethed. As he turned to her, she saw, for once, true fear in his eyes. "How can you not know who he is? It only happened a few years ago….only on the other side of Transylvania…"

"What do you mean? What did he do?"

"All you need to know is that he managed to destroy a vampire who was much older and much stronger than I. The very first vampire, in fact."

Sarah frowned, puzzled. She hadn't even heard of any other vampires, aside from the Graf, and those he presumably had turned. As far as she knew, _he_ was the first nosferatu.

"Did you know him?"  
"Van Helsing? No. I've never met him and never wish to."

"No, I mean this mysterious other vampire," she clarified. He shook his head.

"I have never seen him, not many people did. I only heard whispers about him. He seemed to be much more reclusive than I. Still, he was always greatly respected and feared—even during his human life," he said gravely, going silent for a moment before suddenly cracking a bitter smile. "But even a fearsome tyrant such as he fell at the hands of some mere mortal with a doctorate."

Sarah glanced around, unsure of what to say. "There is still the option to leave."

Grigore seemed to consider this for a moment. In the end though, he just shook his head. "I can never leave this place. No matter what happens. It was where I was born, and if I am meant to die after all, it will be here."

The image of a human Grigore was strange enough to Sarah enough as it was, but the brief image that struck her mind of what the Graf might have been like as a _child_ , growing up in this very castle centuries ago, was quite unnerving.

"Well, we're almost finished with the barrier. Surely that should help keep them back. And Magda and Papa have already started gathering weapons from other villages…"

 _Well, 'gathering' isn't exactly the word for it._ _More like stealing weapons and possibly taking a little more than that from their owners…._

But who could be bothered with such technicalities?

"Do you know how to use those weapons? Or even those that come naturally to us?" Grigore asked her with a raised brow, his arms returning to their usual position across his chest. She shot him an accusatory look.

"Do you? I doubt you've ever held any sort of firearm in your entire life," she scoffed with derision. From his silence, she assumed she was correct. "And as for biting, you _know_ I have experience with—"

"Not just that, there's so much more that you haven't even tried-"

"So you keep saying. And yet, you never get around to showing me just what a vampire is capable of."

He turned away with a regretful sigh. "I did plan on teaching you. My promises were not just pretty words. It is only that more pressing matters have taken my attention recently..."

Sarah was well aware of that fact, but still had been dying to learn about the _good_ parts of being what she was: all of those fanciful ideas he used to lure her to him in the first place. If it wasn't all just a load of lies (as she had suspected almost immediately upon her being bitten) then she wanted to claim her power, and claim it _now._ And this very moment was a perfect opportunity to ask. Stepping forward, she hesitantly rested a hand upon Grigore's shoulder, then gazed up at him with the most innocent, doe-eyed expression she could muster.

"You can show me now…"

He looked down at her, a conflicted expression on his face as he started to reach his hand up, almost touching her cheek with his fingertips before suddenly drawing them back. "We still have much work to do, Sarah."

"Would I not be more _useful_ to you—when the battle comes—knowing all the extent of my abilities and practicing them?" she suggested, now daring to push her body up against his, smirking as he tensed. He let out a shaky sigh before shaking his head, chuckling quietly.

"I have already witnessed your natural talent with manipulation. But if you ever hope to seduce anyone aside from a mere boy like Alfred, then yes, you do need further instruction...how fortunate for you then, since manipulation and seduction happens to be my area of expertise."

/

Alfred's week had been unexpectedly calm. He had not spoken to the Graf nor Sarah in days, and if he ever saw them, it was only a brief glimpse in the halls of the castle. He might have said something to Sarah in these moments, but Herbert always managed to pull off a smooth distraction before he got the chance to do anything. Whether keeping him and Sarah separated was in Herbert's own interest or his fathers (or both), Alfred was not quite sure. In any case, the blonde vampire was behaving quite gentlemanly—all things considered.

They spent most of their nights helping to craft a solid defense plan against the vampire hunters. Alfred's job, naturally, was to predict what the enemy might do, although he insisted he really did not know much more about this than anyone else.

By the end of the week, Alfred and Herbert (occasionally with the help of Chagal and Magda), had managed to construct a formidable barrier around the castle. Or at least it would be formidable, once it was in action. For now, it mostly just looked like piles of sticks.

He was observing this would-be wall from the top of one of the castle's towers now, wondering in the back of his mind if this all would really work, or if they would all perish. Would their deaths be quick, or would they really be as painful as the Graf had forewarned? Pushing this thought away, Alfred looked up to the moon, once more reveling in its beauty. Leaning over the edge of the stone walls of the tower, he looked down a hundred feet or so to the ground, only to realize he was not afraid as he normally would be of such a height.

 _Herbert keeps promising that he will teach me to fly... I wonder if it would just come naturally. Perhaps if I just stepped off this ledge…._

"Alfred."

The boy jumped immediately at the familiar, low murmur of the person he currently hated most: Graf von Krolock. Whirling around, he was even more startled to find the vampire's smirking face only a few inches away from his, causing him to step away. As he did, he felt his lower half hit the cold stone, but the upper half was leaning back into nothingness.

"Did I startle you?"

"No," Alfred lied. Since he had become a vampire, he was admittedly less fearful (and better at keep his voice from shaking when he was), but it did not stop the Graf from seeing right through him. But he ignored this, skipping straight to the point.

"Sarah needs you," he said with a strange, knowing look in his eyes. That gaze was always so predatory even when he was being amiable, and was always so firmly fixed upon whoever was unfortunate enough to be speaking with him. It was extremely unnerving. Turning around, his cape swirled around him as he motioned Alfred to follow. "Come."


	7. Chapter 7

Though coldness is a trait regularly attributed to vampires, it is one of the few things that the creature does not often suffer from. Coldness, hotness, fatigue, sharp pains, dull pains-physical discomfort of all sorts, really, are lessened when one has become the undead.

This was one of the first advantages to being a vampire that Magda noticed. All her life, she had endured the wretched frozen wasteland that was the Transylvanian winter. More often than not, she had felt as if her very bones were made of ice. But when she ventured outside of the inn, confused and distraught after Chagal's brutal attack, she was stunned by the realization that the icy winds did not pain her, even as she stood outside dressed only in her nightgown.

And now, as she and Chagal worked each snowy night to build up defenses around the castle which they now called home, this immunity was more apparent than ever.

But when one discomfort is alieved, another is heightened. In the case of the vampire, especially those depressive sorts that have wearily watched centuries come and go, and seen the world in all of its disgusting glory, psychological torment is a plague one never quite perishes from. And yet, after years of enduring it, the misery, so familiar and so inescapable, it begins to feel like the comfort of an old friend—"the bliss of sorrow", as a certain Graf might call it.

However, none of these black thoughts yet troubled those such as Magda and Chagal. Yoine, in the wondrous simplicity of his mind, cared only that his basest appetites were satiated. Beyond that, he would simply do what he was told without question. But the former maid had already begun to wonder if perhaps she was missing out on something greater.

"Why are we here, Yoine?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why do we stay at this castle? Why do we work all night the same way that we worked all day as humans?"

Yoine shrugged, throwing more branches into a pile. "We have to build up defenses. His Excellency says people are coming to stake us."

"Yes, yes, but does it not make more sense to run away?" Magda pressed on in a frustrated tone. "We are better than peasants now, do you not want to do more with your life now that it can be endless?"

"I never gave it much thought."

"Come now, Yoine, you've never thought about seeing the world? What is stopping us? We could run away, right now, and go wherever we please!"

Chagal let out a deep sigh, finally looking up at Magda. "I can't leave my daughter."

"Sarah? So you do care about her." She paused a moment, watching him continue to work away before speaking again. "How long has it been since you've seen her?"

"I don't know."

"Have you even thought about her?"

"Everything is just different now," he said irritably. "I do not have to constantly worry about her safety anymore, so what does that leave me to think of? Anyway, she resents me, and for good reason. It is best I leave her alone."

"Maybe not," Magda said, looking out towards the darkness of the forest with an empty gaze. "I resented my father too, you know. He was horrible to me when I was little. But when he died, I missed him…strangely. I regret all the years that we did not speak to each other."

Chagal was silent for a moment before scoffing quietly. "Well, death doesn't seem to be an option anymore for her or for me. And were you not trying to get me to run away with you a moment ago?"  
"Eh, it's different if you just didn't care about your daughter at all," Magda shrugged. "Then it would be doing her a favor for you to leave—But if we just took a little vacation..."

Yoine's patience was running out as he returned to his work with firm determination. "Leave if you want to. But as long as Sarah wants to stay here, I'm staying too. Besides, it's a damned _castle_ , Magda. With a reliable supply of blood. So I'm not about to complain about having to do a little work to keep it."

/

"I still don't understand it. I thought you wiped them out already."

Van Helsing sighed, blue eyes fixated on an endless stretch of mountains as his carriage rocked back and forth. The sun was setting, staining the sky with streaks of crimson—a grim reminder of where he was headed. It was the very beginning of his long journey back to Transylvania. Aside from his driver, he had brought with him his brutish assistant, Conall. The hulking Scot was currently sitting across from him, dressed in a coat of tarnished leather and staring at Van Helsing with dull confusion as he asked this question.

"Apparently, I was mistaken," the professor replied simply.

"Yes, apparently. But why did you assume you were right?"

"Because, Conall, removing the root of the problem typically means the lesser extremities will also be eliminated. It's simple logic. But there are also legends and such supporting the theory. The real question is, why I never heard of any other vampires until now, if they have indeed existed this whole time?"

"Perhaps because when someone cries 'vampire', usually people laugh."

"Yes, but in any case, word usually reaches me," the professor mused. "Half the time it is a hoax of some sort, I admit, but even so, I should have heard about this infestation decades ago…."

"Maybe the villagers have been dealing with it until now," Conall suggested, glancing towards the plethora of weapons stacked beside him. There were plenty of standard stakes, as well as spears, swords, and a crossbow, loaded with bullets fashioned from an ash tree. "It isn't hard to figure out the undead bastards aren't fond of pointy wooden things."

Van Helsing chuckled lightly at this. "That may be the case. Or for whatever reason, the village just hasn't sought any outside assistance. People can be so very ignorant—all because accepting the truth is often more frightening than denying it exists at all.

Retrieving the letter from Abronsius from his coat pocket, he skimmed over it curiously. "I do wonder why it was this one victim that set them off. He did not give many details, just that it was some girl that the Graf had been targeting for some time…"

"Bloody counts, always fixated on some lass or another, aren't they, Professor?" Conall grinned wolfishly. "Some wealthy fellow's daughter, I reckon?"

"Actually, just an innkeeper's daughter this time. And she didn't exactly go unwillingly," Van Helsing said, tucking the letter back into his pocket and looking away sadly. "Poor dear. She likely had no idea what was going to become of her…"

"Yeah. Too bad we'll have to stake her."

The professor's hand twitched slightly at the bluntness of it all, but his eyes remained steady, resolute in his belief as always. Death was the only mercy that could be afforded to the girl now.

"Yes. Yes, we will."

/

After a few minutes of venturing in silence through the dark corridors of the castle, Alfred glanced beside him to ask Krolock just where exactly it was they were headed, but found no one there. The Graf had disappeared.

 _He was just behind me a moment ago,_ he thought, bewildered. _How did I not hear his footsteps stop or go off in another direction? Is this some sort of game?_

Curling his arms around his body, he was just about to try and find his way back to his room when he heard distant singing, echoing all around him like the voice of a spirit wandering the vast emptiness of the castle. Soon, the melody transformed into that little tune Sarah always sang when she was bathing. Alfred was hesitant to trust it, after what happened with Herbert, but he could tell by the lilt in her voice that it was definitely her this time

"Sarah?" he called out shakily.

"I'm here, Alfred…" her voice responded, from the hall to his left. A slight smile passed over his features, and he took a few steps towards the sound, before it suddenly shifted to the right.

"No, this way!"

Whirling around, he tried to peer into the darkness, but even with his improved vision, couldn't see a thing. Taking a breath, he tried to follow Sarah's voice again. As soon as he did, a peal of laughter rang out. It sounded like she was right behind him.

"I'm right here, silly boy!"

But as he turned, once again, he was met with nothing. "Sarah, what is this nonsense? Come out already!" he cried, but to no avail. He stood there in silence for what felt like forever. Having lost his patience, he stalked back in the direction of his chamber. He was nearly there when he heard her whisper so close to him, he swore he could feel her soft lips brushing his ear.

"Alfred…."

Flinching sharply, he fell against the wall. His breathing was shaky as his eyes darted back and forth, feeling true fear for the first time since he had become a vampire. The seconds passed by agonizingly slow. Then all at once, a pair of arms grabbed him from behind, causing a high pitched shriek to rip from his throat as he began to thrash about in a panic. It was only Sarah's laughter that stopped him from trying to escape.

"And you're dead!" she giggled, pressing a chaste kiss to his neck before releasing him. He faced her, breathless and confused, touching the spot where she had kissed him.

"What…?"

Before he could receive his answer, he heard someone slowly clapping—someone who wasn't Sarah. The Graf lazily emerged from the shadows, a fanged smirk on his lips as he regarded Sarah.

"Good, but I told you to attempt to corner him in an enclosed room where he couldn't easily escape."

 **AN: I'm sorry this was so short and garbage, I've had a LOT to do. But your reviews do keep me going so thanks for that.**


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